Tabletop Quibble
by Devin Trinidad
Summary: Alina and Nikolai decide to paint a table. It turns out to be ruddy mess of a monstrosity. (Based on an insinuated scene at the end of the third book).
Two young people, war veterans from the Ravkan civil war stood, squaring off in the midst of a child's play room. Paints of varying shades decorated the walls, giving life to the illustrations that were gracefully—if a bit crudely—painted. As the late afternoon sunlight streamed through the open window, the yells of content children wafted lazily into the room. As the innocent yells continued to fill the air, the young man took in the table that stood in the middle of the room. Various shades of blue and other colors were carefully painted onto the surface. Like tiny soldiers awaiting orders, small tins of paint lay scattered on the floor. The young man glanced at the woman again, a mischievous light snaking its way into his eyes.

It took a moment, but the young woman spoke.

"You're incorrigible."

"Such foul words from a saint!"

Alina, the young, deceased Sankta of Ravka, found herself wiping paint from her worn dress as she finally smiled at her king. As per usual, he was dressed in the clothing that was best suited for the royals at court. For some odd reason, the fact that he was still smiling indulgently, and that he looked so out of place within the orphanage almost made her want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Almost. Even though a few months had passed since she had last spoken to her dear friend, she still had a reputation to keep.

"And such terrible timing for a prince," she muttered. With an exaggerated sigh, she awkwardly pointed to a chair. Alina winced when she realized that Nikolai would probably be tripping over cans of paint and drying paintbrushes—she was a hurricane when she was allowed near her art supplies. She was just too darn messy. "You know what peasants call this type of behavior?"

"Punctual?" He asked as he crossed over the small space and into his proffered seat. With practiced grace, he practically danced away from all obstacles. Once he finally sat down, his hopeful, hazel eyes pierced her own as he tried his best not to grin too broadly. Of course, he kept his emotions under lock and key far too well.

"Rude." She flicked some paint (Ravkan blue) in his direction before she began mixing more colors for her desired hue. "You do realize that when you tell a person you plan to visit, you need to wait for a reply?" Her mixing suffered from her sudden bout of irritability.

Nikolai hummed an offbeat melody as he watched her move her brush in an irritated manner.

"I do believe that I gave you enough time, if I recall."

"Mal and I received your," she wrinkled her nose in distaste, "horrendous stationery this morning. When did you send it? Three days ago?"

Nikolai, the sly fox, only smiled as he crossed one leg over the other.

"Why wait for a reply when I knew that you would be dying to see me?"

The young woman boldly rolled her eyes and pointed to a spare paintbrush and a small cup of bright yellow paint.

"Because we all know that princes don't know the meaning of no." She chewed her lower lip for a moment before pointing at an empty space that she hadn't managed to paint yet. "You can draw, right?"

Nikolai pursed his lips in contemplation before snickering to himself. His hands, Alina noticed, were still gloved, and with those same hands, he tucked a few golden strands away from his face.

"And dirty my royally embroidered gloves? I think not, my dear Sankta!"

After spending so much time within the claws of political intrigue and charming soldiers into battle, Alina just barely disguised the flinch. Even after all this time, she still didn't like being referred to as a saint.

"Didn't the palace tutors tell you to whisper when you reveal secrets?" She was jesting, but she looked around warily in case someone were to come by.

However, while she may have looked gruff and irritable at the moment, she knew that Nikolai was far too clever too broadcast her secrets. After all, he had used his cunning to empty the house of its usual inhabitants. Even when the windows and doors were shut, she could still hear the overjoyed shrieks of enchantment. It was still surprising to see that Nikolai was kind enough to engineer and manufacture more than a dozen toy boats that could move by themselves.

"Who said I was a good student?"

He was flashing that damnably enticing smile of his. All good humor and promise of something more. Heat flooded her cheeks as she hastily turned back to her work and began to practically stab the brush onto the lacquered wood.

"Shut up," she muttered. "And stop acting like a prissy prince for once—"

"A powerful king to be politically correct."

"—because right now, I need the privateer to get his hands dirty."

As if to cement her response, Alina flicked some blue paint in his direction. Unlike last time, she aimed to kill.

With a laugh, the young king shrugged off his royal jacket and rolled up his sleeves.

"You know, that could land you a few years in prison for assaulting the most powerful man in Ravka." For a moment, he hesitated before he dipped the paintbrush into the can of paint. His hands deftly drew a sunburst at the corner of the table. The picture was quickly evolving into a large ball of a ruddy mess; it almost blended into the Ravkan blue sky. "Probably a few more since you stubbornly refused to respond."

"If I could kill you, I would."

Alina had finished painting the last minute details onto her side of the table. Satisfied with the fresh coat of paint, she stepped back to admire her creativity. She was pleased until she took a good look at Nikolai's little corner. The small circle that could have passed for a small seed had blossomed into an apocalyptic monstrosity. The painting on the table could not possibly recover from such a…masterful rendering of an exploding ball of vomit.

A small, but tickling bout of laughter tried to leap from her throat, but she valiantly wrestled the urge to the ground. It looked like Sturmhund, Scourge of the Seas, had no idea how to paint a perfect circle.

"With the looks of your…'artistic prowess', I think I have more than enough reason to commit regicide." She smirked at his glowering visage. "Even the Sun Summoner herself would have laughed at this atrocity."

Nikolai leaned back from his work and arched a regal eyebrow at the ex-Sun Summoner.

"Excuse me? Your darling table has been miraculously graced by the presence of the great Ravkan king." He quirked his lips. "Show some respect."

Alina chewed the inside of her cheek to keep herself from laughing.

"It's kind of hard to bow when you realize that your king has enough artistic talent as a young, uncoordinated infant."

"Then I put all infants to shame."

However, he quickly rescinded his command of the brush when Alina asked for it. Curiously, she examined the brush and observed how the young king had managed to stuff globs of paint around the handle and bunched up within the hairs.

"Saints," she breathed, "Even Mal isn't this artistically challenged."

"You forget, Alina. Not all of us are as talented as you."

"That's because I'm not talented. I just happened to have a lot of practice as a cartographer."

Nikolai smiled indulgently. Lazily, he leaned back in his chair and looked like he was pondering another proposition for her. Knowing his affinity for alliances and getting out of bad situations, he probably anticipated her response several minutes ahead of her.

"You know…Ravka needs some spare cartographers on hand if—"

"No. Absolutely not." Alina glared at him. "I'm quite happy with living in the orphanage."

"With Mal."

"We're married."

Nikolai gave a low whistle as he appraised her in a new light. On the other hand, Alina dropped her gaze to the table, heat slightly filling her cheeks. She had not meant to say that aloud. Even now, it felt like a dream that she and Mal were living well together within their childhood home.

"I still can't imagine how he managed that." Nikolai chuckled, nostalgia shining in his eyes. "Give Sankta Alina an emerald ring and you turn into a monster. Wait until she dies and she'll pledge her new life to you." He sighed. "Mal's a lucky man."

"You don't have to act so surprised. We've been together since our childhood."

"But why didn't you invite me?"

As Alina studiously ignored his childish whines regarding her impromptu wedding, she could still hear an undercurrent of hurt. She sighed to herself when Nikolai just went on and on about how he could have officiated the marriage if he was there. Unbidden, her lips quirked at the thought of Nikolai marrying them in the Apparat's clothes.

"I didn't think that princes would be allowed to officiate a dead couple's marriage. It's not something the people of Ravka would actually enjoy hearing."

"You never know. Everyone needs a change of pace once in a while."

Alina absentmindedly nodded in affirmation as she finally took a few steps back to admire the newly painted table. On the very top, the sky and the sun reigned supreme over the mountain and hills that composed the landscape below. Many details provided the terrain, and if Nikolai were to look closely, he would see the small outline of towering cities and toddling villages. Despite her rough skills, the table looked like a masterpiece. With pride, Alina could hear the small intake of breath as Nikolai took in her work.

"It's beautiful."

"I'm honored."

"Too beautiful."

She inclined her head in his direction. A question floated within the overwhelming sea of brown in her eyes. Now, what could the wily Ravkan fox mean?

Nikolai shook his head before he bent over and pointed to a particular region on the painted map.

"The Fold. It's not there."

The young woman pursed her lips as she looked at the lush, lively landscape where the Fold would have been. She had plans to include it as a means to commemorate the lost souls that were part of the forgotten cities and lands that made up the Unsea. And yet…after the Darkling fell, the land began to flourish with life. The Volcra were slowly vanishing, the sunlight began to beam through the darkness, and people were slowly rebuilding the ravaged landscape. Today, the Fold was a far cry from when Alina had first entered the dark territory as a lowly mapmaker.

"I didn't want it to be there. It's," she wracked her brain for an answer, "a promise of the future."

Nikolai seemed to mull her peculiar phrase for a moment. His perfect face was contorted in concentration.

"I like it," Nikolai murmured. "It's just too bad, though. Nothing could match the utter brilliance of my contribution!" He struck a pose that could put any royal to shame.

Much to Alina's embarrassment and chagrin, she found herself clutching her stomach as she doubled over in hysteria. With one look at each other, the two close friends found themselves laughing like small children—although, Nikolai's laughter was far more reserved than Alina's unladylike snorts. Soon after, the twin melodies of their laughter faded into silence.

Finally, Alina hesitantly spoke.

"You never told me why you're here, Nikolai. It's not good to leave your post when we're still in the process of rebuilding."

He shrugged.

"I would assume the letter would tell you all you need to know."

"We received it today, remember? That wasn't nearly enough time to absorb everything."

Nikolai cheekily grinned at her.

"It's just like I said earlier. I needed a change of pace…and I wanted to showcase my mechanical boats for the kids."

Alina didn't miss how he frowned for a moment. It was like he was contemplating what information he should tell her. From what she could gather, another storm was brewing within the tangled jungles of politics and alliances. Still, if Nikolai desperately needed her, he would tell. But what could she actually do? The world no longer required the help of a lowly saint.

"If I didn't know any better, I would think that you were getting worried and you wanted to make sure that Mal was treating me all right."

"Only a fool would cross a revered Sankta such as yourself."

"The too clever fox never escaped from traps with flattery."

"Then explain me. After all, I'm living proof."

Alina surreptitiously took a look at his gloved hands before she shook her head and began cleaning her art supplies.

"Only you, Nikolai," she muttered incredulously. "Only you."

"Only me," Nikolai agreed. He turned to glance out the window, eyes widening at the sight of the darkening sky. Before, groups of children could be heard cooing over the arrival of the mechanical boats. However, the duo could only hear the grumbles and whines of wanting to stay outside for a couple more minutes. Time had flown before they had known it. "Looks like I've overstayed—"

Alina stopped him with a hand on his arm and sparkling light in her eyes.

"Stay. For dinner."

Incredulously, he turned to look at her. Did she say what he thought she said?

She inclined her head towards him in a show of affirmation. Gratitude slowly gave way to a self-satisfied crow of delight.

"Am I finally growing on you, Alina?"

Alina threw a newly cleansed paintbrush at his face. A few drops of blue and yellow marred his complexion, but his cocky smirk remained.

"I'm only offering if you help clean the dishes!"


End file.
